


Ice in my Heart

by millygal



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort/Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: If ever there was a reason...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have serious issues with Bucky choosing to go back into that chamber, to leave Steve. This is the only reason I could *see* making sense to Bucky, and Steve.
> 
> Thank you to sw0rdy for the beta, speediest edit I've ever gotten :D

The roar of a man in agony drags Steve from slumber.

It's deafening in its desperation and Steve wakes to the bed beneath him being violently shaken.

Bucky, who's clearly trapped in a nightmare of his own making, of _Hydra's_ making, is thrashing and crying out. Head slamming from side to side, eyes darting behind closed lids.

This isn't the _first_ night terror Steve's witnessed, but it is by far one of the most **harrowing**. Usually by now he'd have laid strong hands on Bucky's trembling body and tried to force his lover away from the darkness of his past, but the black eye Bucky's given himself in his sleep has pinned Steve to the spot.

Bucky's got black shadows under his left eye and his lips are split and raw, chewed so badly that there's blood pooling in the hollow of his throat, creating a sickening tattoo on his best friend's pale skin.

The sounds emanating from his partner's throat are ones of rage and regret, punctuated by stuttered words, begging for release from the havoc he's being forced to create. Of a life lived under the boot of an abuser pretending to be a saviour.

"Please, not again. I can't be **him**."

Wetness gathers on Steve's cheeks as he grieves for the lost possibilities of Bucky's life.

" _STEVE!_ "

His name being screamed forces Steve into action.

Leaning over the shuddering body next to him, he places his hands firmly on Bucky's chest. "Come back to me, Buck. It's not **real**. Please, come home."

Bucky goes into automatic defence mode, punching out, fingers forming wicked looking claws.

Keeping a wary eye on Bucky's metal hand, Steve tries to shake him awake. "BUCKY. Wake the hell up."

It only takes a second and Steve's flat on his back, weight of his best friend bearing down, pinning him in place.

Arms still free, Steve tries to shove back, but the terror Bucky's trapped in is fuelling his strength and he loses his grip, allowing long fingers to wrap dangerously tight around his throat.

Black spots edge Steve's vision as he thrashes against Bucky's body. "Bu-buck, pl-pl-please."

Bucky's eyes are still closed tight, tears clinging to long lashes, but the look of hatred on his face scares Steve to the point that he almost allows the violation of their relationship - until he realises that if Bucky wakes to find Steve dead, he'll throw himself under the nearest eighteen wheeler.

That knowledge renews Steve's struggles and he does the only thing that he can think to shock Bucky out of his nightmare.

He reaches up, forces trembling fingers into messy hair, and drags Bucky's face in close before smashing his blue-tinged lips against his lover's.

Bucky's reaction is instant as he releases his grip on Steve's throat, and blessed fresh air courses harshly into his lungs.

Bucky's brought into wakefulness by the feel of soft lips massaging his own. When he opens his eyes he's shoved roughly backwards, almost falling ass over teakettle off the end of the bed. "What the fu..."

As he tries not to flail off the bed he realises that Steve's heaving for breath, lips a disgusting shade of black and blue, eyes bulging from his face.

He's about to start looking for an attacker when he sees the finger marks ringing Steve's throat; one set clearly imprinted with the ridges of his metal hand. "Oh my god."

Steve's still too weak to react as Bucky flies from the bedroom, practically tearing a hole in the door on his way from the room. "WA--WA--WAIT!"

**************

Steve struggles for breath as he slides himself from the bed.

Weakness isn't something he's used to, at least not for the last god knows how many years, and he's certainly not accustomed to feeling useless, but at this moment he couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag.

Apparently Super Soldier Serum doesn't account for lack of oxygen. Who knew?

Crumpled in a pathetic-looking heap next to the bed, Steve forces himself to his feet, shaky legs just about carrying his weight. He knows Bucky's still in the apartment because he can _hear_ him. Pluses of being a one hundred year old bad ass, honing your senses.

As he drags himself into the living room, he finds Bucky curled in on himself against the far wall, shaking and rocking back and forwards, hands gripping chunks of lank black hair, tugging violently and muttering to himself.

"Buck?"

His voice is raw, hoarse and scratchy. Clearing his throat, he steps fully into the room and makes to crouch in front of Bucky, but as he lowers himself painfully down Bucky practically climbs the wall to get away from him.

"No. _Stay_ **away** from me."

The self loathing in Bucky's voice breaks Steve's already cracked heart.

Curling into a pixie-like position, legs crossed, hands laying gently against Bucky's thighs, Steve digs dull nails into pliant flesh and tugs. "Sit down. Now."

Bucky's eyes dart from side to side, searching out an escape route that will free him from the situation, but he knows if he bolts, Steve will chase and he'll get about ten steps before they destroy the apartment.

Cringing away from the undivided attention of his best friend, Bucky watches Steve lick his thumb and reach out, rubbing furiously at the dried blood now cracked and flaking in the hollow of his throat.

The touch is both soothing and infuriating. How can Steve sit there, still caring for him? When he just tried to...when he almost...

"Bucky, stop. Look at me."

Steve's tone of voice demands acquiescence but there's a part of Bucky, the part still intrinsically linked to the Winter Soldier that wants to defy the instruction. To punch out and run.

Instead he raises his head, levels his gaze at his oldest friend, and opens his mouth. "I'm so-"

" **Don't**."

Steve watches Bucky flash between defiance and defeat and wants to reach out and shake the man. He's such an idiot. "Look, I... yeah, not my favourite way to wake up, but I knew what I signed on for, Buck. Not to be harsh but you're damaged, that's okay. We all are."

Bucky wafts his hands in front of Steve's face and spits bile at him, too angry with him for allowing such a violation of their partnership. "But I tried to, to... fuck, I tried to kill you. That's **not** okay. Steve I can't...I can't _do_ this any more."

The level of frustration in Bucky's words filters through to Steve far too late and he realises that this isn't going to be the end of it, this is only the beginning of something that'll break him. "Buck...no."

Bucky nods to himself before gripping Steve's chin in his non-metal fingers. "I've gotta do this. Please don't... please don't ask me not to."

When King T'Challa offered a space in his compound, when he relented and admitted that Bucky was as much a victim as his father, Steve's instant reaction had been one of violent protest. Not allowing Bucky the chance to accept.

He always knew it was a subject that would be revisited but not now, not this _soon_.

As Bucky settles into the mindset of someone who's happy with his decision, Steve feels his insides start to turn over, like he's going to vomit up everything he's ever eaten. "Buck, please, I know you're struggling but, please. Don't."

Bucky leans into Steve's space, drinks in the scent of him; freshly awake and rumpled, and commits it to memory. Smiling softly, he rests his forehead against his lover's and sighs. "Steve, I have to. I can't be this _person_. This isn't me, and you **know** it. If there's a way to remove what those assholes stuck in my brain, then I have to hope someone finds it, but I can't live with the idea that I'm dangerous. Not to them, and not to **you**."

As always Bucky amazes Steve. Just like he amazed him at his mother's funeral; standing like a rock by his side, arm around his shoulders, lips resting against his hair, never caring what the people surrounding them thought. That was the very last time he ever questioned Bucky's feelings for him.

And then the Winter Soldier appeared and Steve almost threw his shield down and walked away.

So many years he'd had a hole in his heart, shaped perfectly to the silhouette of the man now muzzled by metal and set lose on an unsuspecting public.

He fought tooth and nail to not give up on his best friend, to snatch glimpses of the guy who sacrificed himself for their mission, for Steve. He's not sure he can let him go after only just getting him back, but judging by the serenity now shining from Bucky's eyes, he doesn't have a choice.

*********

"You sure about this?"

Steve watches the capsule being readied and he digs his fingernails into his palms, hoping that Bucky will about face and walk out the door.

"I can't trust my own mind. So, until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head I think going back under is the best thing... for everybody."

Bucky desperately wants to reach out and comfort Steve but he knows if he caves on that, he'll cave on the whole thing and he _needs_ this, to know he isn't going to attack and kill his partner in his sleep, to wake and find Steve's limp, lifeless body laying next to him.

Bucky steps into the capsule and closes his eyes, knowing that Steve will stand in front of the window watching his frozen body for hours, not willing to turn his back on _them_.

*******

The crystalline sheen covering Bucky's body catches the light, creating beautiful prisms of colour across Steve's face as a single tear hits the floor.

Using the heel of his shoe, Steve smudges that tear, smearing it across pristine tiles, then turns, straightens his shoulders, and walks away.


End file.
